


seven days of hot chocolate and christmas

by grootmorning



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Getting to Know Each Other, Kissing, Meet-Cute, i just read a whole bunch of christmas aus and got inspired, they're just kindred spirits and they click, this was very indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-24 03:47:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17093447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grootmorning/pseuds/grootmorning
Summary: Christmas!fic. Karen's had a really bad day and all she really wanted was a mug of hot cocoa to chase the blues away. Which would be all well and good if the last box of hot cocoa wasn't already in the hands of someone, which were not hers.





	seven days of hot chocolate and christmas

**Author's Note:**

> this was inspired by the lovely [frank-kastle](http://frank-kastle.tumblr.com)'s list of fluffy [holiday aus](http://frank-kastle.tumblr.com/post/180191327692/hi-guys-so-because-im-a-total-sucker-for-fluffy) that i fell in love with:
> 
>  
> 
> _‘We both reached for the last box of hot cocoa mix at the grocery store, and now we’re arguing over who needs it more’ au_

Day One

_19th December, Wednesday_

Karen stumbled slightly in her heels as she made her way down the small aisle of the grocery store, eyes scanning the shelves for the one box she needed before she could get out of here and return home to her warm apartment. It had been a long day of trying to force an article that just wouldn't come and arguing with a source for more information than they were willing to give for her to complete an exposé into one of the biggest investment banks in the city. Basically, everything that could have gone wrong did go wrong. She had finally called it quits around eight after her stomach refused to stop growling. Karen had swallowed a hasty dinner at a nearby cafe before making the short walk home.

Along the way, she'd remembered the hot cocoa she used to have as a kid whenever she had a bad day. Her mother used to make it for her, back when her mother was still around. Shaking off the sudden ennui, Karen turned into the next grocery store she saw. It wasn't any special brand or boasting any expensive ingredients, it was a generic brand that anybody could get. But the memory of how it - and her mom - used to make her feel was enough.

Her fingers trailed across the cereal and tea boxes she dismissed, playing across them in her hunt for that special hot cocoa box. It took her two trips up and down the aisle before she spotted it on the lowest shelf, tucked neatly in behind a few other coffee boxes. 

Making a beeline for it, Karen was just a step behind a man who casually picked it up, staring at the box before putting it onto his pile of groceries balanced precariously in his arms. Karen peered at the shelf. That was the last box. 

And it wasn't her who had it.

Normally, Karen would have probably let it go. But she had been thinking of that mug of gorgeous hot cocoa for close to thirty minutes now. She really wanted - no, needed it. Which was probably the reason why she stood there, and yelled, "Hey!"

The man looked up, startled, "Ya talking to me?"

"Yes, you. I've been looking for that and I was going to grab it when you swooped out of nowhere," Karen paused for breath before continuing petulantly. "Give it back."

The man barked out a surprised laugh, "Ma'am, this is a free country. I need the hot cocoa too, y'know. I've got kids coming over."

"Yeah, well - " her mind raced, trying to think up another reason why she absolutely should get the box of cocoa. She really was going to be that person arguing with a stranger in a grocery store at almost nine in the evening. "I had a bad day."

The minute the words left her mouth, she regretted them, wincing.

"Did you now?" He looked sympathetic, but had already started to make his way to the counter for payment, placing his other hand protectively over his stack of goods. Karen trailed after him like a very angry but lost puppy. "Sorry ma'am but - "

"Look," she said, desperately. "I'll give you double." Karen didn't even know why she was being so stubborn about this. If she was more clear-headed, she probably would have said that she had centered all her day's frustrations into this simple task of obtaining hot cocoa, and now that the possibility of it was so near yet being yanked out of her reach, it was the straw that broke the camel's back, as they would say. 

By this time, the man had already paid, putting a few things in his coat pockets and balancing the rest back in his arms, not bothering with a paper bag. He was on his way out and Karen pushed after him, still awaiting an answer. "Name your price."

A few steps down the sidewalk, the man turned around, an amused smirk on his face. "Lady, this isn't even the best brand of hot cocoa on the market. Why don't you go get yourself something else better?"

"I - it's just - my mom made me this."

"Your mom, huh?" His expression softened, sighing a little at Karen's crestfallen expression. She nodded, slightly ashamed that this was what she had stooped to in order to get some hot cocoa.

The man sighed again, shifting his weight as he considered. "Alright, look, I live just around the corner in that apartment building right up there," his head jerked in the general direction, and Karen lifted her head to look. "I'm not giving you this box of hot cocoa. I need it for when my kids come to visit, apparently this is also the only brand of hot cocoa they'll drink," the man snorted. Karen realised he was semi-laughing at her, but couldn't find the strength to get anymore upset than she already was. "But what I can offer you is home made hot chocolate, better than the store bought crap."

"You're inviting me, up to your apartment, for hot chocolate," she said slowly, processing the words.

He held up his hands, best as he could with all the things he was carrying, "I'm not coming on to you. I just feel bad that you can't get the hot cocoa you wanted. Because I'm a decent human being. What do you say?"

Karen weighed the odds. On one hand, she could very well get killed by a psychopath.  _But hot chocolate_. It was a stranger she'd never met before in her life.  _Hot. Chocolate._ Maybe it wouldn't be that bad, she was the one who'd chased him down in the first place.  _Hot chocolate hot chocolate._

"Fine," she huffed, hurrying to match his long strides as he resumed his walk back. "This better be some damned good hot chocolate."

"Ma'am, please," the man rolled his eyes good-naturedly. 

"I'm Karen," she offered her name and her hand as they climbed the steps to reach the lift lobby.

The man took her proffered hand awkwardly, but shook it briskly, "Frank."

The first step she took into his apartment was cautious. It didn't look like a psychopath lived here. It looked homely, but simple. Karen could see signs that children did live here, stray toys here and there, the odd photo on a shelf and small shoes by the door. She relaxed a little. She was already here anyway, she might as well get this hot chocolate that he kept talking about. 

"Sorry about earlier," Karen said as he directed her to hang her coat over the back of the couch. Frank was already busying himself taking out bowls and turning on the stove. He hummed as he took actual chocolate and milk out of the fridge, waving her apologies off. 

"Sometimes people just have bad days, eh?" Frank got a double boiler going, melting chocolate efficiently and keeping an eye on it as he put a large metal bowl in the freezer. 

The awkwardness and embarrassment was creeping up on her, and Karen took a sheepish seat at the kitchen counter, resting her chin on her hands as she watched him work. Frank whisked milk into the melted chocolate briskly. His hands worked quickly, and he was obviously comfortable in a kitchen. Moving efficiently, Frank crushed a bean (vanilla?) with a bowl before adding it to his concoction. At this point, he took the metal bowl out, adding cream and sugar, and quickly whipping it into a thick cream. Even as he moved, he explained the difference between hot cocoa and hot chocolate; hot chocolate incorporating the real thing rather than powdered nonsense.

It was like watching a performance. Now that Karen was more settled, and the prospect of chocolate was on the horizon, she took him in slowly. A haircut that was most definitely at one point military regulation, but slightly grown out now, adorned a strong face. His jaw was strong and saw some stubble, and his arms were corded with muscles that worked to whip the cream to his satisfaction. He had a nice body, Karen thought, with broad shoulders. Scolding herself for letting her thoughts wander, Karen reproached herself. He had children. What was she thinking really.

With a flourish, Frank scooped a large generous helping of whipped cream into the hot chocolate he'd already measured out into a mug, handing it to Karen. She accepted it, still sheepish, and waited for him to get his own before raising it to him.

"To my saviour of the day."

Frank snorted, "Have a taste before you praise me. For all you know, you could prefer the box crap."

The first sip told her that he was ridiculous. And the second told her that she absolutely needed to get the recipe. "Oh, god," she drank deeply, letting the rich chocolate slide down her throat and soothe her soul. 

Frank quirked an eyebrow, sipping at his own mug, "Don't burn your tongue."

"It would be worth it."

"That good, huh?" 

If she was on her own, she might have licked the cup, "I would willingly die for this."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Oh, please," Karen waved him off. "It's Karen. Ma'am makes me sound like an old lady."

"Old habits, I guess."

"Military?"

Frank nodded, finishing off his drink, "Guilty."

They exchanged a few more pleasantries before Karen reluctantly stood from her seat, warm from the drink. "I had better get going. It's late, I shouldn't impose."

Frank got to his feet as well, "Do you know your way home from here?"

"Yeah, I live two streets away. It's not far."

It wasn't, really, but Frank insisted on walking her home anyway. A gentleman, Karen noted with some pleasure. Now that the post-chocolate haze was descending on her, Karen could honestly say that Frank was hitting on the notes for ideal date. If it had been alcohol she was drinking, she might have said something. But given the scene she caused earlier, she kept mum.

After revealing that she was a reporter for a modest sized paper, and that he was a security consultant for the government, they arrived at her building.

Karen turned to thank him again, but Frank got there before her, holding his hands up to fend off her repeated thanks. "Just spreading some Christmas cheer, ma - Karen."

"Well, thanks. You saved my evening."

"Goodnight then."

"Goodnight."

 

Day Two

_20th December, Thursday_

It took Frank three times up and down the short stairs leading up to the apartment building while talking himself out of leaving to actually reach the small intercom on the wall next to the main door. He'd just raised an arm to press the button next to the neatly written 'Karen Page' when the door pushed open, and a group of noisy teenagers exited. He caught the door neatly, slipping in out of the cold and stomping his boots to get the wet and grit off.

Now that he was actually inside the building, Frank faltered. His hands tightened around the box of hot cocoa that he had managed to scrounge up at another local store, in a burst of uncharacteristic spontaneity. 

Taking the stairs, Frank found himself on Karen's apartment level in a matter of seconds. He couldn't actually remember which number she was in though. It felt like there was a sinking stone in his gut. He'd actually gotten to this point but another obstacle was in his path, and for a second, Frank considered turning around and going back down those steps.

The door nearest to the elevator opened, and an old lady stepped out. Frank turned at the sound automatically. Once she saw him however, her hands tightened on the trash bag she was holding and she eyed him suspiciously. Frank wasn't fazed really; there were only ever two reactions from people when they first encountered him: suspicion or fear. Maria said something about the way his face looked like he could take a beating back when he first met. Frank saw his face in the mirror everyday; Maria's assessment was right.

Karen was probably the first person who yelled at him upon meeting at him. Which was refreshing, to say the least.

"Can I help you?"

"Yeah, I'm looking for Karen? I think she's on this floor."

"You're looking for Karen? At this hour?"

Frank looked at his watch. It was only seven in the evening, which was probably bedtime for the older folks. He tried not to laugh, but looked serious and hunched over a little to meet her eyes, "Ma'am, I assure you, she knows me. You can ask her if you'd like."

The old lady kept a beady eye on him even as she shuffled over two doors down, rapping neatly on the wood. The door opened a few seconds later, and Karen poked her head out. Her blonde hair was pulled up into a messy bun and she had a streak of something across her cheek. 

"Hey, Mrs Cardenas."

"This man says he knows you," the old lady pointed at him, and Frank waved self-consciously as Karen turned to look at him, blinking in surprise.

"Hey."

Karen broke into a shy smile, beckoning him over and thanking Mrs Cardenas for her help. Taking her bag of trash as he passed, Frank ushered Mrs Cardenas back to her own door, assuring her that he would take it out for her. She shouldn't have to go out into the cold at her age. And when she patted his cheek and told him she was a nice boy, Frank felt a little better about scaring her earlier.

"So, what's up?" Karen closed the door behind him, stepping into the kitchen just off to the side. 

Entering behind her, Frank felt his hands twisting around the box again, and he made himself let go in order not to crush it. "Peace offering, ma'am."

"I said to call me Karen," her voice was muffled and Frank stepped closer to look at what she was doing. 

Karen had a double boiler of chocolate going, and a nice cold metal bowl next to her. She looked up at him as he took in the scene, the realisation slowly dawning on him and he grinned, pleased. Frank was really pleased, and he had no reason to be so.

"You're making my hot chocolate."

Karen shrugged, a little embarrassed to have been caught, "Well, it was just so good, I had to try and recreate it."

"Yeah?" Frank was strangely giddy over it, and the smile hadn't left his face. They were still all but strangers after all. "How's that going for you?"

"Well," Karen said slowly, her arm still moving over the chocolate, stirring it gently. "This is my second mug today. So, good?"

They shared a short laugh, the smell of melting chocolate wafting around them. Frank shook the box gently, "Guess I didn't need to bring this over then."

"Aww, powdered hot cocoa. A fond and distant memory."

Rolling his eyes at her sarcasm, Frank set the box down on the counter behind him anyway. Besides, he'd already paid for it. Might as well. "Yeah, well. Figured I'd apologize for my behaviour yesterday. I'm not usually that mean. Sorta."

Another small smile. "Sorta?" Her eyes sort of sparkled whenever she smiled, and Frank was mesmerised. He had to shake himself out of it, so that he could reply her, and appear like a properly functioning human being.

"Usually," he amended. 

"Thank you," Karen's voice was soft as she turned the stove off, looking up at him seriously. Frank had to take a step back to put some distance between himself and her just to get his head on straight. 

It had been a long while since Frank had such a long interaction with a gorgeous woman. Most of his time was split between his crazy work schedules and whatever time he could wrangle with his two children. Where was he going to find time for dating? Apparently, the universe was telling him Christmas. But he was getting ahead of himself. Dating wasn't even on the horizon yet. He barely even knew two things about Karen.

Karen raised a hand to tuck the ends of her scarf behind her as his inner monologue continued, and Frank frowned. "Why are you wearing three layers in your apartment?"

"Oh," she shivered as she turned the heat off, whisking milk briskly into the chocolate. "The heat's out, and the super has stopped taking calls for the day. I was going to go down tomorrow to get him to fix it."

"Karen, you'll freeze. They said it'd snow tonight."

She waved him off, already pouring the cream into the bowl, "It's fine, I'll just wrap up warm. It'll be done tomorrow."

Frank wasn't having it, "Do you have a toolkit in here?"

"What?"

"Toolkit, or whatever you have," Frank turned to peer into the cabinet under the sink where she'd confusedly pointed to. Uttering a sound of satisfaction, he pulled out a box, looking through the tools inside. "I'll fix it. You keep making that."

"But - "

"Do it all the time in my building," he said gruffly, already halfway out the door. "I'll be back soon."

Frank was out of her apartment because she could voice another protest. What are you doing, Frankie boy, he scolded himself as he made his way down to the basement. Showing up at her apartment out of the blue with hot cocoa and fixing her apartment heating, this could almost be called the Frank Castle version of flirting.

It was a simple system, and only took him a few whacks on the pipes, a tightening of the valves and a few adjustments to the controls before he was confident it was working again. Frank took the slow walk back up to her apartment hesitantly. He really hadn't done this in awhile. He should probably take his leave before she got weirded out.

Frank should have known Karen was not a normal lady.

Stomping the dirt off his boots again just outside her door, Frank entered a toasty warm apartment, only to find a table with two mugs of hot chocolate on it.

"Hey, take that coat off and come here. I want your comments on this, " Karen padded over in leggings and a tee, having already thrown her sweater and scarf over her couch. The heat was working well then. 

With just a tiny bit of hesitation before he decided to jump in feet first, Frank took off his dark coat, placing it neatly on a chair before pulling it out, "It should keep until your super has time to look at it properly."

"Hey, if it's going to keep me warm through the night, I'm not complaining," Karen slid one of the mugs closer to him. "Now drink, I want your opinion on it. Did I get the recipe right?"

Frank raised the mug for a drink, licking his lips to get some of the cream that had stained his top lip. She had used a sweeter chocolate than he was used to, and a little more sugar in the whipped cream than he would allow himself, but she peered so intently and so eagerly at him as he drank that he opened his mouth and what came out was, "That was great."

Blushing a little, Karen sipped at her own mug. "My first mug was slightly bitter for my taste so I adjusted my proportions this time around."

"And you got that all by watching me make it once?"

"I'm a reporter. I'm a stickler for details," she smiled at him over the mug. "Besides, the ingredients are the easy part. I just estimated the measurements and adjusted from there."

"I'm in the presence of a genius."

"Stop it."

They made more small talk as they finished the drinks. Frank learnt that she worked the crime beat mostly since she'd started at the Bulletin, which led him to decry the pathetic home security system she had on her front door consisting of a single deadbolt. 

"Am I paying for this security consultation?" Karen laughed, doubling over at the mildly incredulous expression on his face. Frank wrung his hands in the air, shaking his head that she couldn't understand why he was this worried. The complete lack of security in her apartment was giving him mild anxiety. To be honest, he himself didn't really understand why he was this worried.

Or maybe he did. Frank shoved that thought aside for now.

"Ma'am, I can assure you. This I'll give you for free. You need better shit on your door." Frank made some calculations in his head, measuring things with his hands. "I can bring some stuff over tomorrow. It'll make me feel better about being a jerk yesterday."

"I thought we'd gotten past that," her arms were high on her hips as she looked at him disapprovingly, "and I said to call me Karen." Then, Karen clapped her hands, looking as though an idea had struck her suddenly, "I know, I'll make you dinner as thanks."

A home cooked meal? Frank couldn't remember the last time he had something like that. Not that he couldn't cook. But it was usually spaghetti and meatballs for his babies. He got takeout the rest of the time. As if on cue, his stomach rumbled lowly, reminding him that he was supposed to drop the hot cocoa box off and head for dinner.

"I wouldn't want to - "

"It's no problem," Karen shushed him with her usual determined attitude. "Consider us even after that then."

Frank turned the idea over in his mind for a few seconds, peeking at a hopeful Karen standing in the middle of her kitchen.

"What time should I come over?"

Karen worried her lip thoughtfully, "It's Friday tomorrow, so about seven should be good? I'll pick up some stuff on the way home and get cracking."

"See you at seven then."

"Seven," she nodded.

 

Day 3

_21st December, Friday_

In one bag, Frank had a few deadbolt options, some latches for her windows and an automated system for a back up and in another, he had a lightly chilled bottle of wine that he'd grabbed at the last minute in the neighbouring aisle. The disparity between the two bags was not lost on him and Frank winced at his presumptuousness.

He was about ninety percent sure Karen was just being a nice decent person, without any other intentions behind her simple request to cook him dinner.

Besides it was just dinner, not like it was a date or anything.

For a second, he considered leaving the wine on a sidewalk and walking briskly away. But the ten percent of him that wasn't sure kept a firm grip on the bag. Frank wasn't a gambling man but sometimes you just gotta hope.

He wondered whether he was really ready for this. He was definitely, most definitely attracted to Karen. How could he not be? She was gorgeous, obviously dedicated to her work which meant that she had a passion in life, and had a kick ass attitude to go with the whole package. 

It had been two years and counting since his divorce with Maria. They were still on amicable terms, taking the kids whenever he could spare the time to do so. Frank wasn't a lonely man, but he ached a little for a connection to be made.

Amidst his musings, his quick strides had already found him at Karen's apartment building. How had she always lived so close to him, but he had never once taken notice of this beautiful woman in his neighbourhood was lost on him. Karen's natural aura of energy and light should have drawn him like a moth to a flame. But maybe it just wasn't the right time then.

Was it now?

Frank nodded at Mrs Cardenas as she stepped out, holding the door for him to enter without buzzing. She smiled beatifically at the 'nice man for Karen', which she muttered under her breath as he walked further in. Muffling his laugh, Frank took the stairs up to her apartment again, his skin practically thrumming with excitement as he did so.

Even from down the hallway, Frank could smell something delicious cooking. The pleasant scent of garlic and onions were easily recognisable and he quickened his steps to tap on her door. He turned the doorknob at her "It's open!", slightly disgruntled that she didn't lock the front door.

"How'd you know I wasn't a robber?" He asked her waspishly. 

"Are you a robber?" Karen peered at something through her transparent oven door, looking up to grin at him. "Please don't rob me of the little wealth that I do not have."

A laugh escaped him before he schooled his expression back into disgruntledness. Frank coughed, "Well, I coulda been."

"I'm well armed," Karen held up the sharp fork in her hand without missing a beat, before directing him to set his things down on the couch and the drawer where her bottle opener was stashed. Dinner was almost ready, so she had him set the table. Her back was still to him as she busied herself prepping the meal, which let him appreciate her form for a brief moment. 

Frank was glad he decided to dress up a little with a nice shirt, which he now rolled up to his elbows in preparation to eat. A far cry from the leggings that she was in just the day before, Karen could really work a pencil skirt and a nice blouse. The heels helped to elongate her legs too, and brought her up to almost his height. As she opened the oven excitedly, exclaiming over the colour of whatever was cooking, Frank made himself return to making sure each setting had the required cutlery and glasses.

With a flourish, Karen pulled out the pot, setting it in the middle of a table, "There we go!" She turned to grab the sides, motioning for him to sit as she poured the wine that he brought. Frank looked over the home cooked feast in front of him - a lasagna, a leafy salad and some creamy looking potatoes - and felt a small lump grow in his throat.

"Everything okay?" Karen looked worried, and her hand hovered over her fork uncertainly. "I'm sorry if something is not to your liking - "

Frank cut her off mid-sentence, stunned that she could even think this was subpar, "It's not you. I just - hadn't had a home cooked meal in awhile. 's nice that's all." Coughing a little, Frank cleared his throat and held out the potatoes to her. "First, the hostess."

Dinner went smoothly after that. Frank kept finding that he would lose track of his place in the conversation when Karen laughed, her eyes twinkling, usually at his aspect but he found that he didn't mind. Her cooking was phenomenal, and he was glad that he had a gym session scheduled with Curtis in the following week. Otherwise, he'd pay for it sooner than later. 

"I can't eat anymore," Frank looked at the remnants of the dishes with a defeated expression on his face. "Ma'am, I'm going to have to roll out of the door."

"Are you still calling me that?" Karen was flushed and looked disapprovingly across the table. She made to stand and clear the dishes but Frank beat her to it, insisting that since she cooked he should help out a bit at least, before returning to finish off his glass of wine.

"Hard habit to kick, but I'll try,  _Karen_." 

She toasted him, and he raised his glass in return. 

"Alright, back to it. Favourite colour?"

"Black," Frank was utterly bemused at her idea of conversation, but if it was going to help him get to know her better, he wasn't complaining. "Yours is blue."

"How did you know that!" Karen proceeded to badger him for the next few minutes until he finally surrendered, chortling a little

"You've worn two blue outfits in the few days I've known you. Your walls are accented with blue. So are your furnishings," ticking them off on his fingers, Frank counted off the little things that he didn't realise that he'd noticed right up until that point. His observations had been mostly instinctual, and it wasn't until she'd agreed that he realised he was right. 

Maybe he was getting a better read on her than he thought.

Karen sat back in her chair and crossed her arms, semi-pouting that she was such an open book, "I never noticed that before today."

"Says the reporter with the eye for details," Frank let that slip before regretting the comment, but his heart lifted as she laughed, taking the barb gracefully. Questions circled and were traded before they hit on a topic that Frank knew was going to be tricky. 

"Want kids?"

There it was. This might send the lady running. "Got two actually," Frank shrugged, speaking slowly and judging her reactions. Confusion, slight disbelief, and a small look of disappointment? Maybe?

"Say more."

Well, at least she didn't beat around the bush. "Divorced, two years ago. Still on good terms because of the kids, and because we were good friends, through it all. One little girl, one boy." Frank tried not to read too much at the fraction to which Karen's shoulders had relaxed as he mentioned his marital status. Speculations could be saved for when he was back in his apartment, alone, with more time to think.

"I'm sorry to hear that," she leaned forward then, placing a soft hand over his. Frank let it rest there, accepting her sympathy for a second before he coughed again. Karen withdrew her hand, placing it back in her lap and looking expectantly to him again. 

"It's fine," he scrubbed a hand over his face. "It just didn't work as good as us as friends. I still get the kids on weekends I'm free, and they love trashing my apartment cause Mom's not around. Work is insane, so it isn't that often."

"Speaking of which - " Karen pointed at the other bag he'd brought over. "Secure me up, Mr. Consultant. This dinner isn't for free, y'know."

And just like that, she broke the heavy atmosphere with her easy words. Frank felt a small weight lift from his shoulders, and he shoved back from the table to bring the bag over. He explained the different benefits and drawbacks of the items he brought around, letting Karen ask questions and figure out what she wanted for the apartment. Turns out she did like the idea of securing the windows. You never knew which maniac was scaling buildings looking for apartments to break into nowadays. 

The alarm system, she didn't like that much. "Too many complicated buttons," Karen complained, waving her hands around to make a point. "Just give me the few deadbolts. The time they take to break through those will give me time to go for my gun."

Frank nearly choked, spluttering with laughter as he shoved the sleeves of his shirt above his elbows to install said deadbolts. He knew Karen was a strong personality, and every new thing he learnt about her just proved it more and more. 

He wasn't sure if he could say for certain that he liked this woman, but he was definitely attracted to her, very very much.

"That should do it,' Frank wiped at his forehead with his sleeves, mostly out of habit than anything. It wasn't warm, he barely broke a sweat, but being around Karen made him nervous. It made him feel like he needed to do something with his hands to use up all that nervous energy, otherwise he wasn't sure what to do with himself.

"Already?" Karen looked over from where she'd sprawled over the couch, watching him work. "That's efficient service."

Frank shrugged modestly, pleased at her praise, "Give me a good rating on Craigslist."

Karen exploded with laughter again, muffling it in one of the cushions before she looked up, grinning, "Maybe I'll keep this to myself for more favours."

The nervous energy roiling in his gut exploded into fireworks made up of butterflies and sparks of electricity. Frank nodded, "Whatever you say, Karen."

 

Day Four

_22nd December, Saturday_

Half of Saturday went by in a blur. Frank had picked his kids up in the regular diner that served as middle ground between him and Maria. They always had breakfast together on days like this. He and Maria had thought that it would still be good for their kids to see them do regular family stuff once in awhile. Besides, the diner had black coffee that was as dark as his soul and on a free flow basis too. 

Frank Jr. and Lisa had pancakes and syrup so both were hyped up on sugar by the time they'd gotten home, which led to Frank taking them out to the park to run it all off before they yelled for pasta at their favourite restaurant. 

Honestly, Frank loved his kids, he really did. But it did get exhausting. And so after the kids had finally dropped off in his lap while watching a cartoon, Frank rested his head on the back of his couch, staring blankly at the ceiling. With an oddly freeing sensation, Frank sighed out the fatigue of the day.

Finally, now that he had some time to himself, he could address the small niggling feeling right at the back of his brain. Through it all, through his happiness at finally being able to have the kids for the weekend, Frank found that he oddly missed Karen. Which was weird. What was weirder was that he missed Karen a lot.

It was downright ridiculous. He'd just met this woman two, or was it three, days ago. Three days ago, he could have walked down the street, passed her, and possibly not have even noticed. He scolded himself severely, to get a hold on himself. It was no point acting the fool for a woman for all you know, was just being a nice person. 

Lisa stirred in his lap, and Frank stroked at her hair, whispering reassurances to her until she fell back asleep. With his free hand, Frank micro-stretched until he could reach the remote, slowly lowering the volume on the cartoon before finally turning it off. 

Silence reigned in his apartment again, and Frank took the time to breathe. 

Their nice dinner at Karen's house had ended rather uneventfully after the security installation thing. It had just simply gotten late, and Frank had excused himself, taking his coat and Mrs Cardenas' trash with him so she wouldn't have to go outside again. Karen wouldn't let him take hers, saying that he had committed enough chivalry for one night. 

She waved at him before shutting the door, and Frank found himself grinning stupidly at the door before he had to make himself walk away before he did something dumb. Like knocking on the door and asking for a night cap. 

Maybe now he could admit to himself that he liked this woman.

With that, another feeling that Frank hadn't felt in awhile arose within him.

Loneliness.

He'd almost forgotten how it had felt. Since the divorce, Frank hadn't felt lonely. He'd busied himself with his work, hung out with David, worked out with Curtis and more of the like. It wasn't like Frank had sat around feeling sorry for himself. He really wasn't the type.

But maybe he had been lonely and hadn't realised it?

Frank sighed again.

Karen was strong. She was gorgeous, smart, funny. She was driven, the woman knew how to shoot a gun and definitely was not a damsel in distress. It was such an attractive quality.

The day felt a bit dimmer without Karen in it.

 

Day Five

_23rd December, Sunday_

Karen walked down the aisle of the tiny grocery store again, remembering how frustrated she was the last time she was in here. A lazy Sunday afternoon of shopping did always help to make her feel better and remind her that sometimes there was calm outside the usual hustle and bustle of city life. Spying the restocked shelf of hot cocoa, Karen smiled a little to herself before it turned wistful.

She wondered how Frank was doing over the weekend. 

It really had been odd how seamlessly they semi-integrated into each other's lives for three days, before suddenly... nothing. Karen felt like a sudden gap had appeared in her life, that she felt unsettled somehow by how much she felt his absence. 

She didn't ask for his number. Nor did he.

Growing up the way she did, Karen had always learnt to rely on herself, and herself alone. Other people were just peripheral. You could never be sure how long they would be around. Reliance was out of the question. It just hurt too much. And so Karen had survived.

Did she have friends? Sure. She made some friends at the last law firm she'd worked at, as well as at the paper now. But that was all they were. Just friends.

Someone had asked once if she was lonely. 

Karen found that she didn't have an answer, and had simply laughed off the question, gesturing at the many people around her. How did she explain to someone who didn't grow up the way she did that she didn't have the time or capacity to learn what loneliness felt like because she never had what was before?

Then, in three days, Frank had walked in into her life and somehow, reshaped it around him. Karen found that she couldn't remember the events of the past three days that didn't involve Frank. Whether Ellison had spoken to her, or if she had gotten the soup or the sandwich for lunch on Friday, she had no memory of it at all. Only the moments with Frank stood out to her.

She didn't want to be that girl. The girl who meets a guy and loses herself in trying to pursue him. 

Something bumped her mid-thought, and she jerked off-balance, spilling some of the items in her already full basket. "Oh shi - " Karen caught herself when she realised it was a small child. "Sweetie, are you okay?

"Lisa! Stop running in the store."

A frisson of excitement shot through her body.

Karen knew that voice. 

She could have picked it out in a crowd.

Frank rounded the corner, clutching onto another basket and the shirt sleeve of a young boy chattering away. He looked relaxed, albeit a little tired, and his eyes were roving, searching.

Karen was frozen in the middle of the aisle, a loaf of bread and a box of macaroni and cheese at her feet. The little girl named Lisa had already run to the end of the shelves and turned a corner, giggling madly as she did so. When he realised who it was facing him, Frank straightened up unconsciously, mouth falling open in surprise.

"Go get your sister," he whispered to Frank Jr. quickly, letting go as he stepped up to Karen. Karen could see the muscle in his jaw jumping as he stared at her, almost like he was taking her in for the second time. "Come here often?" 

Those words accompanied with a slightly crooked smile gave Karen a small tingle down her spine. "Did you really just say that?"

The smile vanished, replaced with a small and growing look of horror. Frank held up his laden hands in apology, "I didn't mean to - "

"It's fine," Karen laughed, allowing herself to reach out and pat his arm. She let it linger a little to indulge herself, and saw Frank's eyes flick towards it, before dropping it back to her side. "I was just playing. I'm just shopping for groceries for the week."

"And chocolate," he pointed at the small pile in the basket.

"You caught me."

They shuffled their feet a little; Karen stared intently at the frozen food section just behind Frank even as he coughed awkwardly. It was almost unbearable. What did you say really? To the guy you might have been thinking about incessantly for three days that somehow just magically appeared in front of you to find out that you've been making his hot chocolate recipe every day for the past few days.

Karen probably would have thought of something, but she was saved by Lisa and Frank Jr. skidding back into the aisle, tugging at Frank's sweater and asking if they could get ice cream. Smiling gently at Lisa even as the little girl murmured a "Sorry" to her and picked up her things, Karen ruffled her hair a little, telling her that it was okay.

Frank grinned mischievously, "Kids, y'know the hot cocoa you had this morning? Dad had to steal it from this lady here."

Karen had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing at the kids' incredulous expressions. Frank seemed like a good and engaged father, and the kids seemed like good children. Except at this point, Lisa looked like she was almost in tears so she patted her head again, telling her it was alright. "Frank, stop teasing them." He chuckled at her concern. To allay any future tears, Frank told them they could pick one ice cream each and they went off again.

"Sorry about that, and that," Frank pointed at the slightly misshapen loaf of bread in her basket.

Karen shook her head, "We really have got to stop apologizing to each other."

"Maybe we should," Frank's expression grew kind of thoughtful and he reached up to grasp at her elbow, startling her with the contact. "Instead of an apology then, could I make you dinner?"

It was like the words were gibberish, and Karen's brain took a full five seconds to process them. "You - what?"

"I want to make you dinner." A light flush was making its way up Frank's cheeks, Karen could tell. It was endearing.

Karen's smiled shyly, and she looked up at him, biting at her lip. She just had to check though, just in case, "Like a date?"

By this point, they were both red in the face with a thick tension in the air, but Frank surged ahead anyway. "Yes. Yeah. Kinda?"

The look of him scratching at the back of his neck with the most hopeful and befuddled expression on his face was the cutest thing Karen had seen in awhile. But she would take that back and say that Frank's brightening expression as she nodded was the cutest thing she had ever seen.

"I guess I gotta get a couple more things in the basket then," Frank mock scowled at his already full basket, before yelling for his kids and passing some of the boxes to Frank Jr. Now he felt like he was all thumbs in front of Karen, fumbling a box or two which she saved for him, placing it back into his basket. 

"Oh, should I - "

"Do not bring anything," he told her severely, following behind the children as they traipsed towards the fresh meats section. Karen trailed them like a lost puppy, still worrying at her lip. "I'll see you tomorrow at seven? After work?"

"Seven," Karen nodded. 

Frank left her with a big wave and an even bigger grin, "You know where I live."

That she did.

 

Day Six

_24th December, Monday_

Frank was glad he'd picked today of all days to make dinner and have Karen over. It being Christmas Eve meant that he was home from work early, which gave him extra time to grocery shop for ingredients that he had missed out in his post-Karen haze of grocery shopping. He said picked but of course, he had just blurted it out spur of the moment like and now he had to live with it. So he was rolling with it.

And freaking out.

What possessed him to blurt those words out, he didn't know. He could probably blame it on a moment of folly, or an unusual surge of courage. It was Christmas weekend, and of all coincidences and all the grocery stores in the neighbourhood, he had the fortune to bump into Karen again. Maybe it was a sign from the universe. Maybe it was pure luck. Whatever it was, he was just going to give it a shot.

When he had mentioned to Karen over dinner that he didn't date, Frank meant it. This was going to be his first date since he and Maria split, which meant that he hadn't gone on a date since he and Maria decided to get married. That was a whole eight or nine years ago. Was the dating scene even still the same? Did people still do the same stuff?

Work was a helpful distraction from the uncertainty but as the clock hand drew closer to the number six, Frank felt the jitters growing in his stomach. The minute he was sure he had nothing else for the day, he grabbed his bag and coat and brisk walked out of the office before breaking into a light jog the minute he'd cleared the building. He didn't want to see anyone or speak to anyone until the holidays were over. If someone asked him how he was spending the holiday, Frank legitly felt like he might spill all of his insecurity issues in one fell swoop. Best to keep that to himself for now.

Back to the task at hand.

Karen had made a lasagna the last time he was over at her place for dinner. So he figured that she was alright with Italian food, which was great, given that his ancestry had Italian mixed into it. Frank had planned a slightly spicy Seafood Arrabbiata that he had been cooking and perfecting all his life. Countless friends and relatives had tasted it before and he was confident that if there was one dish he wouldn't mess up for the date, it would be this. 

God, he hoped he wouldn't mess it up. He found himself wanting this more than he'd wanted anything else in a long while. It was a weird feeling for him. Frank felt like he might actually throw up.

The realisation that it was actually Christmas Eve and that he didn't think to ask if she had plans made him skid a bit around the corner from his building. But she'd accepted it without too much thought, which bode well, Frank thought. Whether she had plans or didn't have plans, Karen was happy to spend Christmas Eve with him.

That made him happy. 

He was well into making the sauce for the pasta when a light knock sounded on his door. Wiping his hands on the towel on his shoulder, Frank turned to make sure his apartment looked nice and clean before he let Karen in.

The candles on the dining table was lit and the flames were casting a cheerful glow on the place. All of the stray things Lisa and Frank Jr had left lying around had been kept away or kicked into one of their rooms with the doors firmly shut. 

"Hey," he drew the door open, taking her coat and hanging it up as she took in the set up. The candles made her almost glow in the simple black dress, and Frank thought she looked amazing. 

Karen smiled, clasping her hands behind her and turning around to look at him, "Dinner smells amazing."

"Taste it first, then judge me," Frank coughed, walking her to the table and pulling her chair out for her. Pouring her a glass of wine and putting some finishing touches on the pasta sauce took less than five minutes, and soon they were seated across from each other, his smile mirroring hers. 

"Please," Frank gestured to the food and Karen picked up her fork, twirling some pasta onto it. He watched with bated breath as she tried the first mouthful, his stomach finally settling as she nodded, a pleased look on her face. His cooking skills hadn't deteriorated after all.

Soft Christmas music played from the stereo in his living room, but he barely heard it at all, so engrossed in the conversation with Karen was he.

"So," Karen mentioned, halfway through dinner and after exclaiming that he had to give her the recipe for his garlic bread. "I have a confession to make."

Frank forked up some pasta, almost dropping some because he was so distracted by her, "Yeah?"

"The lasagna I made when you came over? It was my grandmother's recipe," she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear nervously, stealing a look at him. Frank tried to look reassuring at whatever she was telling him. He wasn't sure where this was going yet. "She made me promise that I was only going to make it for my future husband. She claimed it was full of virtue, or whatever."

Huh.

Frank leaned back into his chair and crossed his arms, his smile broadening to a point where his face started to hurt. Karen was already covering her mouth with a slim hand, "Stop smiling like that."

"'M not doing anything."

"You're smiling."

"Smiling's not a crime."

"It is when you're doing it like that. Stop," Karen picked up her napkin, tossing it gently at him.

Frank caught it easily, placing it back onto the table. He leaned forward again, placing his arms on the table. Just like that, Karen's breath hitched a little, and the little cave man in Frank's chest roared his approval at how he was affecting her. "So, should I be worried? That there was voodoo in the lasagna or whatever."

"No voodoo. No poison either," Karen made a show of crossing her heart. "I didn't really remember that last part of what my grandma said until, y'know, after you had left. I just thought it would be funny to share."

"Makes for a good story."

The words seemed presumptuous, and Frank was relieved when Karen accepted them, finishing off another piece of garlic bread while beaming at him. Overcome with a tumult of emotions that he couldn't name, Frank finished his dinner, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin before standing to his feet.

Flipping his palm upright, he extended it to Karen, who was regarding him with some curiosity. Frank flexed his fingers a little when she didn't move.  _C'mon_ , the meaning was clear. 

With a small sound, Karen pushed the chair back and stood to her feet. Almost hesitantly, she took his hand, and sucked in a sharp breath as Frank took her hand, drawing her to him and slow dancing to the music he had in the background.

"Okay?" Frank whispered into her ear, a little unsure if she was uncomfortable with it.

But she nodded, stepping closer into his arms and swaying with him. Whatever perfume she had on, it smelled pleasant, and Frank rested his cheek against her temple as he took them slowly through his living room. 

They made a few rounds, just stepping and even twirling a couple of times. As the night drew on, so did the wine's effect. On the last twirl, Karen had stumbled a little on the re-entry, and Frank's hands flew to her waist to steady her.

Looking up at him, Karen felt her breath hitch again at the depth of emotion in his eyes. Frank's grip on her tightened as she stepped in a little closer, raising her hands from his arms to his shoulders, to his neck, slowly linking them around his neck. 

"Hey," she whispered softly, afraid to break the mood that had formed in his living room. 

"Hey."

"Thank you for dinner."

" 's no problem," Frank's swaying slowly came to a stop, and so did Karen's. They were so close. He could feel her breath on his face, and smell the slight scent of the wine on her breath. He leaned down a little, testing the waters. Frank still couldn't believe that he was here, and had this chance.

When Karen leaned in as well, he felt like he had conquered the world.

Frank captured her lips gently in a soft kiss, feeling his heart grow three sizes from the simple touch. A hand came up to cup her jaw, his thumb smoothing over her supple skin. He could feel her pulse jumping, reacting to him and his touch. Didn't that just make him almost stumble with sentiment?

He could sense her smiling into the kiss, pressing back against him and yet drawing him down to her. Everything else faded into the background as Frank pulled back, resting their foreheads together.

They began swaying again on the spot, Karen humming gently along to the music.

"Say something," Karen murmured. 

Frank thought for a bit. He thought about how he could tell her that this was the best Christmas he'd had for awhile. He thought about telling her how good it felt to have her in his arms. He thought about the fact that they'd been all but strangers a week ago, and was amazed that things could and would change so quickly. He thought about how grateful he felt. 

He went with, "Wow."

"That's all you're going to say?" Karen laughed a little, pressing forward to rest her head against his chest.

He thought about asking her to stay. 

 

Day Seven

_25th December, Tuesday_

Karen stirred, blinking the sleep from her eyes then quickly squinting to avoid the light coming from the windows. The windows... that were not hers. Her hands rested on someone's warm arm and she turned over her shoulder to glance at Frank's sleeping face.

Right, she slept over at Frank's place. The warmth on her back made her snuggle in a little further, pulling his arm around her waist a little tighter. 

Frank made a little harrumphing sound behind her, shifting her against him, Pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder, Frank exhaled out into her hair. "G'morning."

His voice was still sleep-filled and drowsy, a little hoarse, just like how he was as they talked late into the night. Karen wiggled until she was on her back, and then flipped around to face him, her stomach flipping with happiness as he moved his arm around her shoulders to draw her in. "Morning."

"Slept well?"

"Not really. You snored," Karen wrinkled up her nose, giggling as Frank coloured, ducking his head. "I'm kidding."

Frank dug his fingers into her ribs as retaliation, and she squealed, squirming to get away as he tickled her. "That's what you get," Frank smirked, tickling her mercilessly until she gasped for breath, smacking at his shoulders to get him to stop. Once they'd calmed down however, Frank raised a hand to stroke at her cheek, quieting down. 

"Merry Christmas."

The low and gruff words were accompanied by a shy grin, and Karen raised her own hands to frame his face, resting her forehead against his, "Merry Christmas, Frank."

He nosed at her, asking for a kiss. Karen happily complied, her toes curling even as he kissed her firmly, her heart stuttering as he rolled her onto her back. 

It wasn't their second kiss. It wasn't their third, fourth or fifth kiss. After their impromptu dancing yesterday, Frank did ask her to stay. What did she have back in her apartment besides a cold room and no one else waiting for her? 

And so Karen stayed. Changing into a large tee that Frank had lying around and never wore anymore, Karen had curled up on the couch, waiting for him to get out of the shower. When he got out of it, Frank had frozen in the doorway for a good few seconds before walking over and kissing her firmly, drawing her up against him. 

"What was that for?" Karen was breathless, in a good way. She pushed her hair out of her eyes, from where he had mussed it up. 

"Just lucky," he muttered, pulling them to sit on the couch and tugging her legs over his lap to knead at them. 

Then they had talked. They had talked for ages about anything and everything, trading kisses whenever they felt like it. As the night grew long, they'd moved from talking on the couch to talking on the bed, tucked under warm covers and with her feet between his to warm them.

It was a very heady experience. Karen couldn't remember the last time she felt this attracted to someone. She wasn't sure if it was his looks, or his personality, or just his life experience. But the more they talked, the more Karen realised it was everything. It was just everything. Everything about Frank was amazing. She wanted more. She wanted to know all of him.

Karen didn't even remember drifting off, but she must have. The last thing she remembered was her sharing about her difficult relationship with her father. The next thing she knew, she was waking in his arms.

It was the best sleep she'd had in ages.

Was this what she had expected when she came over for dinner the night before? Probably not. Was she hoping for it? Well, she could honestly say that she was hoping for something to happen. Karen was always honest.

Pressing kisses to her cheeks and her nose before moving on to her jaw, Frank held himself up above her, the stoic expression on his face belying his happiness that she actually did stay. Karen closed her eyes and tipped her face up, tightening her grasp on his arms as he returned to kissing her, drinking her in deeply and without pause. 

Where this might lead, Karen had no idea.

But she did know that she was the happiest she'd been in awhile. With a light heart and a hope she stored in her chest, Karen kissed him back warmly, tugging him down to cover her body with his. 

Frank groaned, burying his face into the pillow next to her, "Karen, don't. 'm trying really hard to be a gentleman right now."

"Okay, okay," Karen released him, pressing a kiss to his temple apologetically. "Mr Gentleman."

Rolling off her and tugging her onto her side to face him, Frank bopped her on the nose before resting his hand on her waist. His thumb stroked at the soft material of the tee,  _his tee_ , that she was wearing like it wasn't one of the most amazing things he'd ever seen. 

He cleared his throat of the emotion. Now was not the time to overthink things. Maybe one step at a time was all it took. "Breakfast?" He ventured.

Karen thought for a bit, the sunlight from the windows falling on her blonde hair making her look almost radiant. "Yeah," she nodded, her cheeks lifting even as she smiled. 

"Hot chocolate?"

"Seems like an appropriate Christmas drink."

"Your recipe or mine?" Frank wondered, remembering that she did prefer hers a little sweeter than he did. 

He committed the thoughtful expression Karen had on her face to memory. This was what he was going to do now. Build up a memory database on the various different expressions that Karen had, he wanted to get to know every part of her. 

Karen tapped a finger to her lips, wondering if she would ever get used to the beatific expression Frank carried every time he looked at her. She really hoped not. She wanted to see it for a long long time and way into the future. "How about we each make a mug of our own recipes and then share them both? Since y'know, both are really good."

Frank couldn't resist. Dropping a last kiss to her forehead before pushing the both of them to sit upright, Frank silently made a note to sent the makers of that hot cocoa brand a long thank you note. He had a good feeling that this was going to go well.

"Deal."

**Author's Note:**

> this wasn't supposed to be this long, or for me to take this long. and i am exhausted but happy. i hope you like it. blessed Christmas everyone :) may Santa be good to us and give us a kastle kiss for next year.
> 
> like/comment/love me?
> 
> tumblr: [here](http://ltfrankcastle.tumblr.com)  
> twitter: [here](http://twitter.com/ltfrankcastie)


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